Hahnu do Dovah
by Rainy Daze Writer
Summary: Prophecy tells of a hero that even the dragons fear, a hero with great power and bravery, destined to save Skyrim. This prophecy is known across the land. But what no one knows is that the hero can't save the world alone.
1. Prologue

Hello, world - it's Rainy! I should be working on NaNoWriMo, but instead I wrote the prologue to _Hahnu do Dovah_, which means for _Dream of Dragon_ in the language of Skyrim's _dov_. Though this is not the first Skyrim story I've written, it is the first one I've chosen to put here on the website, and so I hope that I'll be more successful with this than on the others. Don't worry, though, to those of you who also read _Mapleshade's Destiny_ (if there are any of that crowd here, since after all these are two very different stories), because I'll still work on that. As you may have noticed, updates are coming very slowly. This should hopefully change this week due to me having all week off, but I also have a decent amount of work to do.

Anyway, this is the prologue of _Hahnu do Dovah_. If I can, I'll have Chapter 1 up by sometime tonight as well. There will be a relatively large amount of the dragon language in this story, but I'll provide translations at the bottom of the page, so don't worry.

Okay, I'll go work on the first chapter. Please leave a review if you've got the time, since every one counts!

* * *

Vuldeiniik lifted his head to the sky. A crimson aurora lit the night, its beautiful lights dancing across the darkness speckled with stars. Such a sight, however beautiful, could mean only one thing.

The time had come.

He moved slowly to leave the cave, stiff joins aching from the cold that came with being outside in Skyrim. There was a biting wind that carried a bitter taste… the taste of smoke. It only confirmed what the ancient dragon knew – that he was back.

Though time was of the essence, Vuldeiniik knew he might not see the sky for many years – perhaps never again, if Akatosh chose to be cruel. So in a split second, he made a decision. He spread wings that had once been deep maroon stained with silver but were now pale and faded to the point of being pink and white. They would not disguise him from watching eyes, but there were other ways to do such a thing. He looked down at himself – at his body, grown flimsy with age, at his muscles, now scrawny and sore – and Shouted.

"**_Feim-Zii-Gron!_**" he roared, and the power of the Shout rippled through his body. Now satisfied that his scales were merely a white smudge easily mistaken for a cloud, Vuldeiniik threw his body upwards into the air.

It was a long journey, and one he took care to relish. From his mountain in the cold region the mortals called Eastmarch to the _monahven_, Vuldeiniik watched the world rush past him in a blur of white, green, and gold. Whenever the effects of his Voice began to fade, he would put energy into flapping his wings until he was high up in the sky, practically touching the auroras, and Shout again. Then he would fold his wings against his body and dive down, rushing right through the streets of villages when he wished to cause trouble. It was most entertaining to watch the roofs of houses ruffle or even tear under the great power of the wind he brought with him, and the people below yelping as their possessions were ripped from their grasp and scattered across the street. At one point when he was above the plains known as the Reach, Vuldeiniik let the effects of his shout fade and dropped to pick up a giant in his powerful talons, then dropped him onto a group of mortals too occupied in fighting amongst themselves to notice the massive man falling from the sky.

But all too soon, his joyful flight ceased. The mountain that scraped the sky, the _monahven_, rose in front of him. From a distance, Vuldeiniik could see another _dovah_ who had survived all these long years: Paarthurnax, Alduin's brother, general, and eventual downfall. Wisely, he had taken to wing and was now circling the peak where the Time Wound was. Even from this far away, Vuldeiniik saw the area where space was warped and twisted around a horrible gash in time.

Paarthurnax seemed to see him, and a call reached Vuldeiniik through the frigid air. "Who is the dragon that is there; a brother, or a long-lived foe here to see his master arise once more?" the old dragon roared.

Vuldeiniik spun away. There was nothing to be gained by letting Paarthurnax see him, perhaps recognize him, and he needed to return to his cavern to fulfill his task. He could already see the light of dawn appearing over the most distant eastern mountains, and he needed to return.

The journey home was not as pleasing to him, not when he had a job to do. He had seen the Time Wound, smelled the smoke, and seen all the signs. Now it was time, and there was nothing he could do.

The ancient dragon was silent as he flew, speaking only when he needed to Shout again. As dawn began to break over the land, he saw Nords farming their pathetic, scraggly crops that barely survived on the hoarfrost that made up most of the soil in Skyrim. Wheat, gourds, cabbage – so many flammable crops. Vuldeiniik felt the faintest tug on his heart to drop out of the sky and rain flames on the mortals who thought themselves rulers of the land. _They are nothing. They are no one. And yet they walk this land as if they were the ones who have been here since the beginning of time._

**_Stop._**

****The deep thought, so powerful and huge in Vuldeiniik's head, nearly knocked him out of the sky. He struggled to regain his composure, flapping a few times to rise higher into the air.

**_ It is not your place to meddle in the affairs of mortals. Heed my words and obey my will, and you will know peace. Disobey me, and you will suffer in ways you could never have imagined. Return to your cave. You have already displeased me in your frivolous flight, dovah, and it would be wise to gain favor while you still have the chance._**

Vuldeiniik shuddered visibly as the voice faded, and the massive power with it. In front of him, he saw the familiar outline of his mountain. It made him weak with relief. _I will obey,_ he swore silently. _No matter the cost, I will obey._

He furled his wings to his sides and pointed his nose down, aiming for the small entrance to his cave. This was a risk he had often taken in his youth, but as he aged it became evident that his strength would someday fail, and he would die in the attempt. Despite that, Vuldeiniik continued to drop and gain speed as he went. Above him, the auroras suddenly blazed so brilliantly that the dragon nearly turned to look. In that instant, he came closer to death than ever he had before in the days of the Dragon War.

As an instinctive reaction, Vuldeiniik recognized that the ground was looming ever closer. He adjusted his flight, shifted his wings, and shot like an arrow through the entrance to his cave. Immediately after entering, the dragon spread his wings and slowed from a speed that would knock out a mortal to the speed of perhaps a bee hovering around a flower.

With a sigh of relief, and admittedly also one of regret, he landed heavily onto the floor of the cave. Then the dragon shuffled around until he was facing the entrance. His neck buckled and his body jerked violently as he Shouted, "**_Fus-Ro-Dah!_**" The Shout seemed to have more strength than he; it tore free from his throat with such strength that Vuldeiniik was driven back as the wave of force struck the stone above the entrance to his cave with a resoundingly mighty _CRACK!_

The cave fell into the murky gloom that Vuldeiniik would have to grow comfortable in. He knew that it wasn't as if the rest of his life would be spent here – unless Akatosh had so planned his fate – and there was a way out should he ever need to escape, but it was still troubling to be in such total darkness.

He sighed a little, breath rushing out of him and overturning tiny pebbles as if they were little more than leaves. "This is not the fate I would have chosen for myself, Father Akatosh, had I been given the choice. But I swear to you, I will obey your orders and fulfill the purpose for which I was created."

Vuldeiniik lumbered further into the cave, massive talons crunching on rocks crushed long ago. His yellow eyes glittered faintly as the slightest hint of light reflected from their glassy surfaces. _And now it begins,_ he thought.

"Alduin is returning, little one," Vuldeiniik rasped. "Akatosh has set your path before you, as he has done for me. I bid you awaken – heed my words, and enter the world you are destined to save." Shuffling forward, he rolled aside a huge boulder with a nudge of his snout and was bathed in brilliant golden light.

The old dragon squinted, wincing as the light made his worn and faded scales gleam with the power of Nirn's sun, and plodded further into the light. "Awaken!" he roared now, deep throaty cry making the cave around him shudder. "Skyrim has need of you, little one, and I bid you _AWAKEN_!"

All at once the light faded, there was a sound of shattering ice, and Vuldeiniik was left in darkness. There was a long stretch of silence.

Then a tiny growl cut through the silence.

Vuldeiniik's vision began to adjust from the abrupt darkness. He peered into the shadows, trying to discern where the noise had come from, and gradually made out a tiny shape. It shifted slightly, and another growl became audible.

"You are here," he growled softly, coming closer and stretching out his neck so that his snout lightly tapped against tiny, still-damp scales. "The savior of Skyrim is here. Now I must beg for your forgiveness, little one, for this will be painful."

Taking a deep breath, Vuldeiniik lifted his head and roared, "**_Rah-Al-Mah!_**"

Once again, the cavern was bathed in light.

There was an ear-shattering explosion.

Then nothing.

* * *

**Feim-Zii-Gron** - Fade-Spirit-Bind

**Vuldeiniik** - Dark-Guard

**monahven** - Throat of the World

**dovah** - dragon

**Fus-Ro-Dah** - Force-Balance-Push

**Rah-Al-Mah**- [sorry, but this will be found out later in the story; feel free to look it up but it is somewhat of a spoiler]


	2. Chapter 1

Rainy again. Shout out (no pun intended) to the two of you who read and reviewed or read and favorited. Hopefully this story will get to a point where there are actually things happening. I don't have much else to say, so... enjoy the first chapter, I suppose.

* * *

_I rest here now, long after the end of my story. It is rare that I get the chance to surface, and when I do it exhausts me to the point that I must recede completely. Some might say I am trapped here, that I should be free, but in truth I do not mind. The gods have blessed me with a chance to live on, in one sense of the word at least, and I am thankful for this much._

_ Somehow I am able to remember almost everything, from the moment I was first aware of myself to the time that passes me by now. I remember it all, every vivid detail both beautiful and heart-breaking. I cannot exactly cry, but he cries for me._

_ He is likely unaware of my presence. Sometimes he speaks, and I think his words are directed at me, but there is no way to be certain. Does he even know what I did for him? Does he care? These thoughts trouble my soul when there is nothing to soothe me, and those are the times when my influence causes his eyes to burn with my tears. Though it saddens me to imagine that my actions are unknown, there are times – few and far between, to be sure – that I have some measure of access to his thoughts. When these times occur, I treasure them, for it allows me a tiny glimpse of his mind. I can see, and I can tell what happened to him when I was not there. Such an opportunity is precious to me._

_ For I think I am beginning to fade. It may take centuries – perhaps I will live on in this state as long as I might have lived otherwise – or it may be a paltry few years. But I can tell that some part of me is worn away every hour that passes. It is miniscule. But it is also building._

_ And so I tell my story. To whomever it is that might read this tale, which I have transcribed through a series of journals that he does not know he holds. To whoever cares enough to keep reading. To whoever wishes to know the story of the Dragonborn, and the dragon that saved his life._

* * *

"Vuldeiniik! Look!"

I ran up to the dragon, hands grimy from the dirt I had been scratching at. Clutched tightly in one fist was a thin, writhing little creature. It had appeared seemingly out of nowhere while I was drawing spirals in the damp earth, twisting and nudging blindly at the ground as I watched in fascination. One hand had reached out, eagerly, hesitantly, and poked at the creature. To my absolute delight, it was slimy. So, of course, I had picked it up and carried it to my guardian.

"Hmm, little one, I see you have discovered a worm." His voice was so deep that it rumbled, and the amusement twinkling in his yellow eyes was unmistakable.

"Worm?" I echoed, the word foreign to me. Looking down at the creature as it twisted wildly in my grasp, I found myself in awe that something so small could contain so much energy. "Why is it so scared of me?"

Vuldeiniik lowered his huge, faded red muzzle closer to my hands, and I laughed at the tickle of his hot breath washing over my smaller form. "You're much larger than it is," he pointed out calmly. "It likely thinks that you are attempting to eat it."

My nose wrinkled. "Eat it? But it's so slimy!"

The dragon laughed, jaws parting and head lifting. I could see the needle-sharp teeth spaced evenly across his mouth, long as my pointer finger. "Would you eat it?" I asked him curiously, my view of his teeth sparking my curiosity.

"Me? Eat the worm?" Vuldeiniik's laughter died to a mere chuckle. "No, _Goraan_, I would not eat the worm." His eyes glimmered. "A worm is too small a creature to sustain me."

_Goraan_ was my name for that time. Vuldeiniik changed it often, his only explanation being that he "could not name me." A short while ago, I had been _Yuvon_. Before that… well, I couldn't recall what I had been before that. And really, only my current name mattered. When Vuldeiniik changed my name again, I would probably forget being _Yuvon_, and later _Goraan_.

I shifted my gaze from my guardian to the worm once more. It didn't look so small to me. "What do I do with it?"

Vuldeiniik tipped his head to one side inquisitively. "What do you think you should do with it?" he queried. "You are the one who holds the worm, _Goraan_. You are the one who controls its fate." His eyes bored into mine, suddenly intense and indecipherable. "You decide whether it lives or dies."

_So serious!_ I couldn't help but feel an icy talon of panic sink into my chest. Vuldeiniik was always solemn, but now there was something almost taunting in his eyes. As if he was willing me to choose the worm's fate. As if he was waiting for me to kill it.

"Look at the worm," Vuldeiniik rumbled lowly. He narrowed his eyes, and their burning intensity made my knees week. "Do you see its fear? It fears you because you are stronger. To be feared is to be powerful." He nodded at the worm. "Before you picked it up, did the worm show fear?"

I thought back to the moments before I had reached for the slimy creature. It had poked its head – or what passed for its head – out of the earth boldly, so confident that I had half-believed it owned that patch of land, and I was intruding. No, there had been no fear in the worm when it surfaced. Slowly, I shook my head in answer to Vuldeiniik's question.

"Exactly." Now his rumbling tone had deepened into a growl, almost a snarl. "It was confident. Arrogant. The worm believed that it was the most powerful thing in the cave. Now, and only now, it cowers under your strength – begging in its own pathetic way for mercy. If you let it go, soon enough it _will_ forget your power, and within a day it will jaunt about on the surface again. Tell be, _Goraan_, do you think the worm deserves that?"

A sudden rush of anger seized me – to this day, even with the understanding of its cause, I struggle to believe that a child could be so filled with rage at so small a thing – and I threw the worm to the ground, picked up a jagged stone, and hacked it in two.

Vuldeiniik let out a low growl of approval. "Well done."

To my shock, as I stared down at the two halves of the creature, they both began to wriggle and twist on the ground. "It's still alive!" I yelped, stepping back in a hurry and nearly tripping over a stone behind me. "How?"

All at once, Vuldeiniik's demeanor changed from this strange and wrathful beast to the comfortably normal mentor I knew and loved. "That is yet another part of your lesson, _Goraan_." His huge head stretched to tap the top of my head gently. "There are times when a foe appears to be defeated, yet somehow they still go on. Come now," he added, and turned away. "You have been awake for many hours. Surely you are tired."

I followed him, for I was indeed feeling the call of sleep. As I did, though, I couldn't help but cast one more glance over my shoulder at the two pieces of the worm, writhing pitifully among the dirt and stones that littered the cavern floor. And I felt a twinge of guilt.

Little did I know that it was that guilt that would lead me down a path even the divines could not predict.

* * *

_The first portion of my story is not one of great interest, this I will admit. Yet I feel the need to describe what relationship I had with Vuldeiniik. Many mortals, reading this perhaps hundreds of years in the future, might assume that I was little more than a prisoner – held in a lightless cavern with a dragon who gave me lessons on ending the lives of tiny worms. Not so._

_ Vuldeiniik was my father. Whatever his higher purpose for raising me, he _did_ raise me. Where most of the _dovah_ would have simply killed me once they tired of me, where most _dovahhe _would feel only hatred towards me and teach me to hate as well, Vuldeiniik taught me of many things. He taught me that wisdom is an essential trait, that one must cultivate intelligence to be of worth, that mercy is not so evil as the _dov_ insist. He told me stories of the past, tales of ancient days long before my birth. I cannot harbor any hatred towards him for his nature._

_ For even though he was more compassionate than most _dovahhe_, it did not mean he was completely free of the racial drive to rule, to kill, to destroy. His lesson that particular day was a metaphor, comparing mortals to the worm. The intensity of his gaze was a signal that his instinct had driven him to lust for power – a signal that I quickly learned to recognize._

_ I have translated our words here, in this journal, for they were all spoken in the tongue of the _dov_. For all his strengths, all his wisdom, Vuldeiniik never learned to speak the common mortal language. Thusly, neither did I._

_ When you read further, I must ask you not to judge Vuldeiniik and to set aside your loathing of the _dov_, if you can. They are, like mortals, creatures of vastly different personalities. Some are wise. Some are brave. And some, like the mighty World-Eater himself, are evil to the root of their souls. But is it not the same with mortals? Suspend your disbelief, my friend, for this tale will almost certainly take everything you know… and change it._

* * *

**Goraan** - young

**Yuvon** - gold

**dovah** - dragon

**dovahhe** - dragons (plural)

**dov** - dragons (race)


End file.
